Chapter 2

The world spun.

My back hit the semi-soft leather of the couch. For a moment, I was disoriented.

Twelve lowered his head and pressed the cold iron muzzle against me without a flicker of emotion.

A breath, cool and faint, brushed over my lips.

I reached up and lightly pushed his face to the side.

"No," I scolded softly. "Not obedient."

Twelve went completely still.

His face stayed where I'd turned it, frozen, like his brain had short-circuited.

From what I'd read beforehand, adopted beastmen came with a certain wildness.

I'd thought mermaids were gentler and wouldn't have this issue. Turned out I was wrong.

But then Twelve slowly turned his head back. He lowered himself deliberately and pressed the muzzle against my lips again, nuzzling lightly.

It clicked.

"Sorry... This thing hurts, doesn't it? You want it off?"

Twelve paused, then gave a small, obedient nod.

I reached up, traced my fingers along his ear to the clasp at the back of the muzzle, and unhooked it cleanly.

The muzzle fell away.

He watched me without moving. Deep red marks were pressed into his cheeks from where it had sat.

Clearly, it had been on his face a long time.

Beastmen kept in captivity too long often developed psychological issues—unstable moods, stress triggers.

Technically, receiving a beastman in this condition counted as a quality issue.

As a customer, I had every right to complain to customer service and send him back.

But looking at Twelve, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Right now, he loomed over me like a mountain, his shadow pooling across me.

His eyes were utterly calm. Like stagnant marsh water—empty, thick, not a trace of light.

Just like the darkening sky outside the window.

Maybe he was waiting for me to decide to send him away too.

I hesitated, then reached up and ruffled his hair, pulling him into an embrace.

"It's okay. Don't be scared." My voice came soft. "From now on, this is your home."

His hair was cold and coarse beneath my fingers, prickly like new grass.

Twelve went rigid in my arms. Then, after a moment, he suddenly lowered his head and brushed his lips against the side of my neck—a tentative, gentle gesture.

Twelve stayed with me.

I didn't mind that he didn't trust me yet, or that he was guarded, or even that he had his moods.

He'd been through something bad. That wasn't his fault.

I figured if I was patient enough, given time, he'd find his way back to being normal and happy.

To take better care of him, I joined a mermaid care group with an eager-to-learn attitude.

The other owners were super welcoming. The moment they heard I'd just brought home a new mermaid, they started firing off questions and advice.

"What breed? What color?"

"Male? How old?"

"Vaccines all done? How're his tail scales looking?"

I answered nervously, one by one.

"I think he's an Arctic mermaid. But he mostly stays in human form, rarely shows his tail. I remember it being dark black."

"Male. Seller said around twenty."

"Vaccines probably not done yet. Tail scales look fine though—pretty hard."

The group was confused.

"Black? I don't think Arctic mermaids come in black."

"Could be a mutant? Girl, be careful. You might've gotten a defective one from a shady seller."

"Maybe they dyed it to charge more. Next time you bathe him, scrub hard with cleaner and see if the color comes off."

I looked up at Twelve.

He'd just cut up a fruit platter and set it on the table. Quiet and well-behaved. When he caught me staring, he tilted his head, confused.

"Twelve," I called. "Did you go through a lot of pain back there? Before you came here?"

He paused. Then slowly ambled over, sat down cross-legged beside me, and nudged his head into my palm.

I scratched behind his ear like he wanted. His eyes immediately went half-lidded, content.

"Good," I praised. "Any other injuries I don't know about?"

He stayed quiet, like he was figuring out how to answer.

I put on a serious face and cupped his chin with both hands, turning him toward me.

"You can't hide things like this from me, okay? I heard mermaids love water, but ever since you came home, you've never gone into that tank. And you always avoid me when you shower. Is there something you're not telling me?"

He repeated slowly, "Mer... maid?"

"Yeah. And which ocean are you from anyway? I ordered an Arctic mermaid, but they said Arctic mermaids don't come in your color."

Twelve fell silent again.

I started to worry.

"Are you sick? Are you hiding it because you don't want to bother me?"

I chewed on it for a moment, then said, "How about this—I'll take you to the hospital tomorrow."

The second he heard "hospital," his eyes went terrifyingly cold.

I hesitated. "Twelve?"

His grip on my hand tightened suddenly.

Sharp pain shot through my fingers. I winced.

He let go immediately.

After a pause, he said quietly, "I'm not sick. I'm not going to the hospital."

His hand was trembling slightly as he spoke.

I could feel how tense he was.

He was probably afraid I'd find something wrong and abandon him.

It wasn't rare for people to dump pets once they got sick.

But I wasn't that kind of person.

Forcing him now wouldn't do any good. At least he seemed okay for the moment.

There was plenty of time. For now, I'd just have to find out gently, piece by piece.